


The Road Less Travelled

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, fairytale AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-19
Updated: 2013-11-08
Packaged: 2017-12-29 21:55:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1010570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a simple peasant thief, stealing and scrambling to keep himself and his brother alive. Prince Castiel just wants to escape beyond the castle walls, and he seems to think Dean is the man to help him do that. Dean isn't so sure. [WIP, HIATUS]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Simple Man

Dean Winchester really hated royal parties. The small cobbled streets of Equiden had become littered with obnoxious rich people from foreign countries, and the servants were scrambling past carrying trays laden with deliciously sweet looking food. That was for the guests who had the privilege of being invited. Dean wasn't a guest. In fact, Dean wasn't much of anything. Just a lowly peasant thief. Not that he cared. Hell, his lifestyle suited him just fine. He took what he needed and he got by.

Although, Dean did find his eyes wandering to one of the trays. A tall, thin, gangly blond man in the obligatory royal uniform, blue with black buttons and lining, strode past with a tray of delicious baked good, assorted flavours of pie amongst it. The smell tingled at his nose, sending a hungry pang to Dean's stomach. Men in similar uniforms carried sandwiches, wraps, and a lot of other fancy shit that Dean couldn't recognise.

"Dean." He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked to the gangly seventeen year old behind him. " _Dean_ , we need to get home. There's too many guards about."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Sammy, calm down." A confident grin fell on Dean's face. "I need to get me some of that pie first!"

Sam shook his head, tugging on Dean again. "Come on. If you get caught again, you'll end up in the dungeons. Didn't you hear Michael last time?"

Michael was Guard Captain of Equiden. He was a tall man, high cheekbones, short dark hair and always had a prideful look about him. Always turned his nose up around peasants like Dean, as though they weren't good enough to so much as breathe the same air as him.

"Screw Michael." Dean's reply surprised even himself. Not so much the words, as the tone. He hadn't meant to let so much anger out in only two words. His fist was clenched.

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing Dean and practically dragging him past the crowd, towards the alleyway to their right - a shortcut to the tavern. Dean made a noise of protest, but he knew his brother had a point. Stealing from the rich people in the street was far different than stealing from the royal family. Still, the delicious, sweet smell of pie wafted through the thin dark passage he was being led through and Dean sighed wistfully as his stomach gave an angry grumble.

The Roadhouse, the town tavern which also doubled up as an inn, was one of the biggest buildings in town. It's white stony exterior stood out from the small hovels built around it, and dark brown beams complimented the edges. A small garden lay in front, a few petunias and roses grew beside the cobbled path that led through the massive brown double doors.

The inside was just as warm and friendly. Oak smoked wooden stairs to the right of the entrance paved the way to the humble upstairs bedrooms. The bar, in the downstairs area, was a larger room, apt for an inn. Despite pretty much everything being made out of wood and the room being big, the place was cosy.

"Boys!" A warm voice greeted them as Ellen waved enthusiastically at them from the bar.

Ellen was a beautiful woman. Hair dark blonde hair sat just below her shoulders, her lips full, and the sides of her eyes crinkled with the maternal smile that Ellen reserved for the boys, and of course Ellen's daughter, Jo. They had become family to Dean and Sam since the boys had become orphans. Dean didn't like to think about that day. The Roadhouse was their home now.

"Hey Ellen!" Sam grinned, kissing her on the cheek. "Jo about?"

Ellen shook her head, grumbling, "Who knows where that girl has gone off to now? Wouldn't tell me. You know what she's like."

Dean patted Ellen on the shoulder, a comforting gesture. "Got any grub, Ellen?"

"I had to stop Dean from stealing from the guard." Damn it, Sammy.

Ellen's expression mirrored Sam's, eyebrows drawn in disappointment and lips pursed. Her hands settled on her hips as she braced herself.

"Dean Winchester-" Ellen began, with the tone of a beginning lecture.

"Is a no good trouble maker!" A perky male voice yelled from the other end of the bar. Gabriel.

Gabriel was part of the guard, but he wasn't as bad as the rest of them. Sure, he liked to play jokes, he liked to make other people uncomfortable, but he never thought himself better than everyone, unlike the rest of the guard. He was shorter than the rest of them, too.

"Hey Gabe!" Dean grinned, thankful for the interruption. "Shouldn't you be out, uh, carrying trays or some shit like that with the rest of the guards?"

Gabriel snorted. "Not today, Dean-o. I got the job of running after dear Prince Castiel."

"The Prince?" Dean asked, taken aback. No one in town even knew what the prince looked like. "He's going to be there?"

Gabriel nodded.

"So, what, his highness too important for your services or somethin'?" Dean snarked with a chuckle, taking a seat beside his friend.

"The Prince is a complicated man." Gabriel answered simply, an uncharacteristically gentle smile playing on his lips.

Dean snorted this time. Gabriel was clearly omitting some details. Whatever. He could care less what some rich snob did with his spare time. Prince Castiel clearly cared little for his subjects - Dean - hell, most of the kingdom - had never seen hide nor tail of him.

The next few hours were spent with Gabriel, Dean allowing Ellen to forget that she was pissed at him. No further mention of the Prince was made - instead the focus of the conversation turned to Sam's love life.

"I mean, I've been around the village a little, right? But Sam- I don't know, he doesn't seem to even wanna try."

"isn't that your gangly freak of a brother hitting on that hot woman in the corner?" Gabriel asked with a chortle. Dean turned to look at the direction he had nodded in.

_Son of a bitch._

There was his awkward, gangly brother chatting up a gorgeous blonde babe with full lips - Dean usually called them blow job lips. Her hand was rested on his arm, and they were gazing at one another intently. Dean snorted. "Looks like our Sammy's gettin' some tonight!"

Gabriel barked with laughter, nodding in agreement.

"Hey kiddo," Ellen was waving at Dean from the other end of the bar. "C'mere for a sec, will ya?"

Exchanging curt nods with Gabriel, Dean rose from his barstool as Gabe returned to nursing his ale.

"She's been gone for hours." Ellen muttered as Dean approached her.

"Let me guess - go find Jo?" Dean asked, already knowing the answer. Hunting for Jo and keeping her out of trouble was a regular occurrence for Dean.

"She's snuck into the castle again," Ellen sighed, "I just know it. I don't know why she does it."

"She said something about the gardens reminding her of her father." Dean replied, remembering the last time he had dragged Jo from the castle kicking and screaming. It was a wonder they hadn't been caught, even with Gabriel swinging his sword about, balancing it on his head and just performing strange and random tricks so that the rest of guards were distracted.

Ellen shook her head solemnly. "Her dad did have a tendency to sneak into the gardens too. Stupid reckless son of a bitch."

Jo's father - Ellen's husband - did indeed sneak into the castle a lot while he was alive. Peasants weren't allowed in, he told his wife and daughter. The forbidden aspect of it excited him, and the grounds were peaceful and calming. The gardens, he used to tell Jo, were his favourite part. Dean had never met Mr Harville. He was executed before the death of John and Mary Winchester - Dean and Sam's parents. Executed for sneaking into the castle. No one ever questioned it, even if it did seem an extreme sentence.

Without further ado, Dean kissed Ellen on the cheek and strode to the door, clapping Sam on the back as he passed him, who was sitting at one of the tables near the door chatting to a pretty blonde woman. He didn't need to drag him away from that. He could fetch Jo on his own. In fact, the less people the better. They couldn't risk being caught.

"Dammit, Jo." Dean muttered, crossing the path from The Roadhouse in swift strides, his eyebrows knitting together with worry. "What have you done this time?"

The streets were near empty now. Dean could hear cheers coming from near the castle. A crowd of villagers stood around the wide dirt road that led to the castle's drawbridge. Dean found himself wondering what the commotion was, but he had no time to dwell, he realised. There was a side entrance - the one that Jo would have used to get in. Dean just had to swim across-

" _Dean_!" Came an excited yell from the crowd. Oh. Chuck. The town bard. "Dean, c'mere!"

The bearded man was grinning from ear to ear, stepping towards Dean and drawing his arm around him in a friendly gesture. Dean's stomach tightened. The longer he was kept here, the more danger Jo was in. He had to keep moving, but he couldn't arouse suspicion. Sure, he trusted Chuck, but the less people that knew about this the better.

"They're bringing in suitors for the Prince!" Chuck almost squealed in excitement. "Oh, the stories I could create with this!"

Against his better judgement, Dean froze. Suitors? The Prince was to be married off? This only happened in Equiden when there was to be a new king.

Dean smiled weakly as he watched a horse and carriage approach the drawbridge, a regal looking man perched atop with the reigns tightened on a tall, white horse. The carriage itself was a dark green.

"Princess Meg of Demanion" a man who Dean could not see over the top of the crowd announced. The voice didn't sound familiar.

Princess Meg peered at the crowd with the air of someone who had just been thrown amidst cockroaches, a wry smile playing on her face. Her brown hair curled just above her shoulders, and her dress - a velvet emerald corseted ensemble - tightened at her waist, her breasts pushed upwards. Dean let out a low, quiet whistle. Chuck grinned wider.

As the horse dragged the elegant carriage across the drawbridge and out of sight beyond the castle walls, another carriage was drawing nearer. This one was a sleek black, to match the huge horse that clopped along with it elegantly. She was a beauty.

"Princess Anna of Durnkirk" Dean heard the announcer say. He then caught a glimpse of the attractive redheaded woman in the carriage. She looked out at the crowd, her expression unreadable. If Dean didn't know any better, he would have assumed that she really would rather be anywhere else. Her sleeves on her white dress sat below her shoulders, laced material covering her breasts.

The carriage was pulled out of sight beyond the castle walls once again, as another approached, pulled by a small grey horse, almost a pony, but still elegant. This carriage was a bright blue - matching the eyes of the woman inside. Her brown hair was pinned atop her head elegantly, a dainty crown on top. She was draped in jewels and pearls, all the shows of someone who had never experienced going without anything in her life. Her dress was a blue chiffon outfit.

"And finally, Princess Naomi of Havania" came the announcers voice. The horse neighed, clopping past the crowd. Princess Naomi, unlike the other two, payed no heed to the subjects around her, choosing instead to look up at the castle, determination set in her eyes.

"Prince Castiel is a lucky man" Chuck sighed wistfully.

"Nah, man." Dean chuckled, clapping his friend on the back. "I mean, I guess I'd do Princess Anna, but I couldn't marry any of them. Too snooty for my taste."

"Yeah, I know, but look at them!" Chuck replied, his hands gesturing towards the castle's now closing gate. "I mean, come on, you wouldn't marry them?"

"I'd kinda need to know what I'm getting myself in for, Chuck. None of those women look even a little bit approachable." Dean replied, then added "Anyway man, I, uh, I gotta go. Ellen needs me to run an errand for her." Well, it wasn't exactly a lie, was it?

Chuck nodded, patting Dean's arm in a friendly manner. "I'll see you later then! I'll be singing at the tavern tonight!"

"Can't wait!" Dean said, applying his best shit eating grin. Truth be told, Chuck was an awful bard. The stories he told were great and all, but he was a terrible singer. Of course, Chuck didn't seem to realise this, and Dean wasn't one to piss on someone else's parade.

Losing sight of the crowd, Chuck included, Dean circled the left side of the castle. The surrounding water crashed around almost warning him off, but Dean had done this plenty of times. He wasn't about to leave Jo to be executed like her dad.

Crossing the water wasn't hard, though in hindsight, Dean wished he had at least stripped down to his underwear and flung his clothes to the other side. At least then he would have something to warm himself up with.

Shivering, Dean made his way to the small gated entrance. The entrance was barely noticeable by the untrained eye, and it was always locked. Not much of a boundary for Dean, though, who picked locks for a living. With a swift click, the side door swung open, beckoning Dean into the dark entrance.


	2. We've Gotta Get Out of This Place

Castiel had prayed daily that this day would never come. As expected, those prayers unfortunately remained unanswered.

The suitors had arrived. Prince Castiel could hear the announcement from inside the castle walls, and a pang of uneasiness set across his chest. He was standing on the platform in front of everyone - watching uneasily as the crowd swarmed around the room buzzing with conversation.

He straightened his white gold trimmed jacket, smoothing the edges that sat over his waistband. His tailored outfit was pristine and matching throughout, just like his mother had ordered. Castiel ran a hand through his flatly styled dark brown hair, ruffling it in a small act of defiance.

He hadn't asked for any of this - why would he? All his life, he'd been confined to the castle, only ever venturing into the town whenever Gabriel had been sent to watch over him. Castiel considered Gabriel a good friend. Always willing to look the other way when Castiel wanted to wander the marketplace alone, hidden beneath his cloak, even though he doubted very much that he would be recognised.

His mother, the Queen, would never allow him to socialise with the outside world.

Yet, now she wanted him to marry someone that he'd never met before. All for the sake of keeping up the reputation of the royal family and uniting the lands. Was that really worth Castiel's freedom? Or, what little of it he ever had, anyway.

His mother had often argued that she was doing this for his own good, and that once he took a wife, he would be crowned king of Equiden. Nobody ever asked Castiel what _he_ wanted. Even as King, his mother would still take control of his every move.

The royal court was full to the brim with guests. The usually regal room was cluttered with people dressed in majestic outfits - the men outfitted in clothes of all colours and patterns and the women in dresses of chiffon and silk, most corseted and tight around their waists. The room itself - large enough to fit an entire house - seemed much more confining to him than usual. Of course, Castiel never did enjoy the company of others. Solitude was much more calming.

He glanced to his left, where a crowd of people were gathering in front of the large oak doors that held the entrance and exit to the court room. He found himself longing to pass through them, to escape back into the solitude of the castle - but he couldn't yet. His lack of presence would be picked up on far too quickly.

He focused, instead, on the ceiling. Castiel had always admired the artwork around the castle, from the beautiful tapestries that hung throughout the corridors to the patterns, textures and sculptures fixed to the walls and above. The ceiling in the court room was always his favourite, though. He couldn't explain why. Maybe it was the fact that the pale blue sky painted there brought him peace, calmed his mind. Maybe it was the angels, perched on the clouds and looking down on him with curious gazes. He always longed to join them. They looked serene.

The grand double doors at the entrance opened with ease, the crowd surrounding them parting to make way for the oncoming visitors. Castiel sighed, watching as his future stormed its way into his sanctuary in the shape of three carriages. One green, one black and one blue. His heart hammered unpleasantly, threatening to escape from his chest, and the knot in his stomach tightened. The three women being helped out of them by their servants looked anything but kind.

The brown haired one from the green carriage looked up at him first, and her lips fell into an easy smirk. Castiel nodded in her direction, clasping his hands together in front of him, as though they would stop him from falling apart. There was something sinister about the way she leered at him.

As for the other two - the redhead barely glanced at him with a gaze of mild intrerest, and the jewellery clad woman was staring at him with a look that could only be described as possessive. It made Castiel's insides quiver with discomfort.

His mother took her place to Castiel's left, her hands held out in a welcoming gesture, a warm smile directed to the new guests. An act.

The Queen was wearing a newly tailored outfit, that she had demanded to be made for this night. It was a long red satin number, the tented skirt closing in on her slender hips, meeting the gold laced corset around her waist. Rich and elegant, the way she always wanted to be seen by her subjects. If only they knew of her darker nature.

"Welcome, princesses. Welcome to the Kingdom of Equiden!" Castiel's mother spoke with an air of serenity, quite of which one would expect from the Queen. "Princess Meg of Demanion - how lovely to see you."

The Queen smiled, gesturing for Princess Meg to come forward. The brown haired woman complied, sauntering forward to the raised platform and taking her place to the right of the Queen.

"Princess Anna of Dunkirk!" The Queen's voice rung out. The redhead stepped up. "And Princess Naomi of Havana." The third woman walked forward gracefully, her eyes still focused on Castiel.

Her smile radiated towards the three women beside her, and she lowered her hands to turn to her son. Castiel forced a look of interest towards her.

"My son, Prince Castiel of Equiden, will now invite each of you to dance with him." She turned back to the princesses. "He will also spend ample time with each of you throughout the evening in order to come to an informed decision by midnight, and he will wed the chosen suitor in two days time."

As Castiel felt his whole body tighten more and more as her speech went on. She was speaking to the entire room now, praising this so called "joyous occasion" and giving words of splendour and glory. His gaze returned to the angels on the ceiling - focusing on the soft feathered wings of the angels, thinking about how he longed to just fly away and escape from this reality.

The room was silent now. Castiel flinched, returning his attention to his mother, who was gazing at him expectantly. Castiel stepped forward obediently, as Princess Meg stood before him. Taking her arm, he stepped with her from the platform and onto the dance floor, where the crowd parted to give them space.

The music began - it was a slow brass number that he didn't recognise. He took Princess Meg in his arms and led her around the dance floor with less grace than anyone would have expected from a Prince. The whole ordeal felt very unnatural. If the Princess in his arms had noticed, it wasn't showing in her expression. She was staring Castiel down as they moved around the floor, her lips curled up.

As the music ended, Castiel bowed and Princess Meg curtseyed, taking her leave to be replaced by Princess Anna.

If Castiel thought that this dance was going to be less awkward, he was sorely mistaken. Princess Anna fixed her gaze on him, but she didn't smile. Her stare was cold and hard. What little chemistry he had with the last Princess was proving to be far much more than this one. Of course, Castiel figured that Princess Anna wanted to be here as much as he did. She curtseyed swiftly at the end of the song, and Princess Naomi was in her place almost immediately.

Castiel had to strain himself from shuddering at the penetrating stare he was receiving. Naomi's bright blue eyes locked into his own, bearing into him. Her grip was a little tighter than the other two, and he winced slightly as she gripped his hand in what could only be described as a manner of holding on for dear life.

The music stopped once more. Castiel parted from the Princess, who flinched as though to reach him again, but seemed to stop herself, instead laying a graceful curtsey before him and taking her leave, her eyes never straying from his. It was very disconcerting.

The crowd poured into the dance floor, the men and women swaying with the music - now more upbeat. Castiel took the opportunity for solitude, slipping through the doorway into the dimly lit stone passages of the castle.

He wasn't even sure where he was going - he just let his feet carry him in a daze of panic. He had to get away. This wasn't right. Surely to marry someone implied that they were in love. How could Castiel love any of these women? Princess Meg was... sinister, to say the least. Princess Anna was cold and absent, and Princess Naomi was... pushy? Possessive? Greedy? It was difficult to pinpoint her motives.

His feet carried him through the lower west wing of the castle, the red carpet below his feet stretching out before him, willing him to climb even further from the court room. He wondered if anyone was looking for him now. He found it difficult to care. He was taking as much time as he could before his mother sent someone to pull him back to his doom.

Castiel was so lost in his thoughts, that he barely noticed when he collided with someone, stumbling to the ground with an ungraceful thump. The other man was on the floor now too, his green eyes penetrating Castiel's blue. The two men froze, locked in a gaze of wonder and awe. They were so close - their chests almost touching - that Castiel _should_ have felt uncomfortable and removed himself instantly. Instead, he was frozen to the spot, taking in the man's appearance.

This man could only be described as beautiful. His eyes reminded Castiel of the greenest grass in the castle gardens - a sanctuary he visited often, partaking in the fantasy of escaping to a far off land. His outfit - a darker shade of green than his eyes - casual and a little rumpled. Not like anyone he had ever encountered within the castle walls. The light freckles on his face complimented him perfectly. What intrigued him most about the man though, was how his forehead was creased with worry, his eyebrows knit together. He seemed elsewhere. He was looking for something - someone? Whatever it was, it seemed to mean a great deal to the man.

"Apologies." Castiel broke the brief silence, rising to his feet and holding his hand out to pull the other man to his feet. "I-"

"He's there!" Castiel heard someone shout as the green-eyed man made to grasp his hand, following with some clinking of armour scattering towards them. The other man's eyes widened, his mouth parted as though he was about to speak, but one of the castle guards hauled him to his feet.

"Dean Winchester." Castiel shuddered as the deep authoritative voice of Raphael rung through the corridor. The right hand to the Guard Captain, Michael. This man was clearly in a lot of trouble.

The man - Dean - scowled at the guards now surrounding him, flinching at their touch. "What, you gonna lock me up for walking?" he growled, his voice sending butterflies to Castiel's stomach.

Raphael barked a chilling laugh, curdling Castiel's stomach. "We're going to do a lot more than lock you up, boy. We've been trying to get our hands on the evasive Dean Winchester for years!" He was circling Dean now, with a mocking smile on his face. "Now now, Dean. Breaking into the castle? Treason worthy of hanging."

" _No,_ " Castiel heard himself gasp, unable to stop the word from escaping his mouth.

"Your Highness?" Raphael turned to Castiel, bowing slightly.

"I-" Castiel began. How could he get them to let him go? More to the point, why was this affecting him so much? He had seen people being executed for less. Of course, he'd never been happy about that either, but the thought of that fate awaiting this man that he had just met was sending panic through his entire being. He had to stop it. He had to rescue him. "I command that you let him go. Let him return to the village."

Dean gazed enquiringly at Castiel, who pretended not to notice. He couldn't give himself away. Not now. Three women all competing to win his hand in marriage, and Castiel was more interested in this man who appeared to have all the grace of an elephant. Why? He had to find out. Castiel was always too curious for his own good.

"We can't, your highness." The second guard, whose face Castiel did not recognise, spoke up. His grip remained firmly on Dean. "I apologise profusely. The Queen's orders are to take this man to the dungeon to await trial."

Castiel knew the hidden meaning in these words. Trials were never fair. Once the Queen decides you are guilty, you are as good as dead. If the Queen had already made up her mind on this, then it was final. Dean would be hanged.

Castiel would not allow it.

He watched as the two men clutched Dean, pulling him to the left passage leading to the dungeon, and Castiel waited, a plan forming in his mind. Maybe his prayers had been answered after all. He just needed to play it carefully if he was going to get both himself and Dean out of the castle undetected.


	3. Folsom Prison Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dark and humid stone room was void of emotion and warmth.

The dark and humid stone room was void of emotion and warmth. Torches alight with flames provided the only visibility, so that Dean could see just beyond the bars he was trapped behind. A short stumpy guard stood before him, helmet removed and balanced between his arm and his hip, his chubby fingers gripping it at the bottom. The guard had been watching him with suspicion in his eyes since Dean had been thrown unceremoniously into his cell by the two brutes that had captured him, but not speaking. The silence was uncomfortable.

Dean was sitting on the only semi-soft surface that came with the cell – a bed strung to the walls by chains that featured a very clumpy and ruffled mattress, thinking his situation over. He was sure they wouldn't hang them for wandering the castle, he could make up an excuse. Say that Gabriel had asked for him or something. Gabriel was always good at playing along when he had to. He just had to convince them to let his friend attest for him – shouldn't be that hard, right? But then again, the guards never exactly trusted Gabriel to begin with. A fact that is mostly down to the fact that Gabriel frequently pulled borderline psychotic and sometimes downright evil pranks throughout the castle – a feat that earned him the nickname, 'The Trickster'.

Wrapping his arms around himself a little tighter for heat, Dean listened to the nearby clumping of armour – most likely relief for the creepy guy who was still staring at him with intense concentration, as though he was trying to figure out Dean's life story by the shape of his eyebrows.

As the clinking grew louder, an armoured figure emerged from the shadows, stepping into the mild light of the flame.

_Shit._

Michael was a lanky guy, short black hair and a face that looked as though it had been carefully sculpted. There was something there that always reminded Dean of a Winchester. Of course, the guy was a ' _great big bag of dicks_ ' as Dean fondly recalled Gabriel telling him one late night in The Roadhouse, as they threw back copious amounts of booze while trying to keep themselves from tumbling to the floor.

"Come to gloat, Mikey?" Dean mocked with a forced smirk, rising from the bed so that he was on the same level as the other man. If he was going to feel uncomfortable, he was sure as hell dragging his nemesis down with him.

"Dean," replied the man, not even bothering with his usual attempt at correcting Dean's patronising nickname. His face was drawn in stern contemplation, and he was stepping closer and closer to the bars which held Dean captive. "Well, well. This _is_ an embarassment, isn't it?" Michael chuckled softly, his eyes darting to the guard beside him. "You may go, Fabio. I'll take over for now. Balthazar will be along any moment now."

"Yes sir," the chubby guard was saying, his chin wavering as he spoke for the first time since he had been around Dean. His voice was more nasally than expected. With a swift nod to his captain, the man waddled away with clinks and clunks that echoed around the dungeons, disappearing out of sight. Shorty after, Dean heard the creak of a heavy door being opened, then a slam as it closed over again.

"What do you want?" Dean asked horsely, dropping the act of calmness that he had been attempting previously. "Wanna braid each other's hair and talk about about cute boys for the rest of the night, or are you going to just sit there and eye me up from afar?"

Michael's tight lips curved upwards, but he didn't speak. Clearly he was going for the second option, then.

The buzzing of incessant chatter filled the room around him, but Castiel paid no heed to the men and women surrounding him. Being careful to escape the attention of Princess Naomi, who was momentarily distracted as a short balding man with a top hat and monocle was waving his arms around enthusiastically, evidently telling the princess about something in which he was very passionate about. He slid between two couples who were dancing in the centre of the room, glancing around wildly.

Gabriel had told him he would be back in time for the start of the dancing, so Castiel was sure to find him lurking about somewhere. Of course, he hadn't expected him to be locked in a heated conversation with Raphael. Castiel felt a pang of anger in his chest, but he didn't proceed to talk to the Captain's right hand man. That would just magnify matters immensely. So he waited until the shorter man left his side, seemingly panicking, a worried expression fixed on his face, not noticing Castiel until the prince was tugging his shirt, motioning for him to follow with his head. They could not talk here – someone was likely to overhear. Thankfully Raphael was now locked in a discussion with Princess Meg, who was no longer smiling, but looked positively disgusted at whatever the man was saying to her.

Once the two men were back in the the hallways, Castiel led the guard out to the courtyard where more guests swarmed around the beautiful vibrant gardens, lit up with fairy lights strung to the castle surroundings, illuminating the petunias and roses through the blackness of the night. They carried on silently, Gabriel still lost in his own thoughts and Castiel clenching his fists with anxiety. There was no time to waste. The garden path led them to a small cellar door, barred over with iron. With a _click_ , Castiel pulled his key from the lock, pulling Gabriel into the dark mustiness underneath the castle.

"We need to talk," Castiel said finally as he closed the barred door over behind them, turning to Gabriel to meet his perplexed gaze. He continued without even waiting for a reply – they had to move fast if they were to pull this off. "The guards have imprisoned a man by the name of Dean Winchester – do you know him?"

"Yes!" Gabriel grunted, his expression shifting from confused to aggressive – though it wasn't directed towards Castiel – the prince knew that much. Clearly this is what had been on the man's mind since he had found him in the castle. "Your Majesty, he's my friend. He hasn't done anything wrong – it's all my fault. I asked him to come and meet me here. I shouldn't have invited him in, I know I'm not allowed, but-"

"Gabriel," the prince spoke, cutting the guard off. "You're wasting your time. He's there under my mother's orders. I can't get him out by myself. I already tried." He was starting to sound as tired as he felt. His eyes felt heavy below his eyebrows, drooping slightly as he spoke, but he forced himself to concentrate on the mission first, then resting later. Of course, that's assuming it all went to plan and he had somewhere to rest later.

"B-by yourself?" Gabriel asked, taken back. His eyes were widened now.

"I need your help." Castiel clarified. "I need you to relieve whoever is guarding him - tell them that my mother is looking for them, anything to get him to leave. Tell them I sent you. I will then take Dean from here. When you're asked, you tell them I ordered it, and that you didn't know I was going against my mother's orders, do you understand?"

"I understand," Gabriel nodded, folding his arms and staring at the prince with consideration. "But – won't you be punished?"

"No," Castiel replied, folding his own arms unconsciously mirroring Gabriel's stance. "I will be leaving the city as soon as I get Dean. We can't stay here – my mother will catch us and we'll both be hunted - we'll both be killed."

"And you think this is worth dyin' for?" Gabriel asked curiously, but his face betrayed a look of avid admiration.

"Honestly? I barely know this man. I just know that risking my life to escape with him will be more beneficial than staying in this godforsaken place, waiting to be married off to one of those women in there. I'm fighting for free will." Castiel left out the part where Dean had sparked something inside him – he wasn't sure Gabriel would understand. He barely even understood it himself. He just knew that something about Dean was worth saving – worth sacrificing himself for. He just hadn't quite discovered what it was yet.

Gabriel nodded once more, and without further ado he opened the large wooden door, swinging it with a creak as Castiel followed, the door closing with a loud clutter behind them. Taking care to lurk out of sight of the other guard, Castiel slunk into the shadows, draped by darkness and betrayed only ever so slightly by the soft flickering of a weak flame behind him. He ducked behind a nearby statue whose features he couldn't quite make out but for grand pair of wings that cloaked him perfectly.

* * *

Raphael was leering at him with a sickening smirk, his arms folded in front of him – his sword glimmering at his side. He seemed to be taking far too much pleasure in Dean's misery, which only sunk Dean's mood lower. There was no way of getting out of this one. He was well and truly fucked. Michael seemed to think so as well.

As the creaking of the door rung through the chamber, both men shifted their determined gazes from each other, attempting to make out the approaching form. He couldn't hear the clunk of armour. So it wasn't another guard coming to take over. He figured he would be stuck with Michael for at least a while longer. The thought of it made Dean sick to his stomach, but he didn't let on. He didn't want to show any weakness – not to his worst enemy.

"Hey, bro!" the familiar voice chimed, directed towards Michael. The guards often thought of themselves as brothers, so the greeting shouldn't have been strange. What was strange was that it was Gabriel – the one guard who Dean was happy to share his time with, the one who often referred to his 'so called brothers' as tedious and foul. Yet here he was, addressing Michael as an old friend – as though his actual friend wasn't standing behind bars beside them. Instinct told Dean to trust him – to play along. Gabriel had never let him down, after all. Sure, he had once convinced Sam that Dean had died in a hilarious fashion – mauled by a tiny dog, Sam had told him making his favourite bitchface – the ' _I-am-going-to-smite-him-until-he-dies-painfully' –_ his left eye twitching with anger. Dean couldn't really blame him – Gabriel had a tendency to overstep the line by proportionate amounts.

"Gabriel." Michael nodded to the other guard, a note of suspicion in his tone. "What brings you here?"

"Prince Castiel sent me – Queen Lilith is looking for you, man. She sounds pretty pissed." Gabriel beamed at his superior, hands rested on his hips casually. "You better go – I was told to stand guard in your place."

"You expect me to believe that, Gabriel? From _you_ of all people? You're not even wearing your armour – weren't you attending the ball as a servant tonight?" The suspicion remained in Michael's voice, and the man remained still as a statue, his resistance betrayed only by the subtle bobbing of his Adam's apple, indicating a gulp.

"Scouts honour, Cappy. Don't worry, I'll keep Deano hear company."

"Yes. Because I'm going to trust my most distrusted guardsman, who socialises frequently with the man that's imprisoned." Michael bit out, dripping with sarcasm.

"Aw, come on, Mikey," Gabriel chuckled. "What am I going to do – break Dean out? I'll be killed. You know it. Better not keep our Dearest Majesty waiting, now. You know how impatient she can get. You don't want to be on her bad side like Dean here, do ya?" He still hadn't glanced in Dean's direction. It was difficult to tell if he was making it up – but Dean figured even Gabriel wasn't that stupid - he'd know that to lie about such matters would be an instant death sentence.

"Any foul play – any at _all_ , Gabriel, you will be removed from the guard and if I get my way I will have your head, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir!" Gabriel shot back with mock enthusiasm.

Michael furrowed his brow, his scowl still directed at both men. "Very well. Don't think you're standing here all night with your friend here, Gabriel. I will return as soon as Her Majesty sees fit."

Once the man removed himself from Dean's vision, and the tell-tale noise of the door slamming closed behind him, Gabriel turned to his friend, an apologetic look set in his face. "Dean, man, what happened? Jo came back without you, and Ellen is worried sick."

"She's back?" Dean groaned despite his relief. He was glad Jo was safe, but it meant this had all been for nothing – and Dean wasn't going anywhere any time soon. There was no way out of this. He just had to hope that he could come up with a decent excuse – one that would be believed in his trial. A task that seemed almost impossible. It was looking more and more likely that a hanging would be his fate. And it was all for nothing. "Good. Good for her." Dean grunted.

"Listen, man, we need to move fast." Gabriel grasped the key Michael had left behind him, swinging Dean's cell door open hastily and ushering him out.

"Whoa! What are you doing, Gabe? You'll be in deep shit for this!" Dean shot out, panicking. Not that he wasn't grateful – but he wasn't a scarafice-your-friends-for-your-own-needs kind of guy. He would rather be executed himself than live with the knowledge that he had let his closest friend go down in his place. Surely Gabriel knew this.

"Dean."

Dean froze, turning in the direction of the low rumbling voice.

"Uh, Prince Castiel?" Dean asked cautiously, taking care to edge back towards his cell, but Gabriel grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"He's here to help, Dean." His friend told him.

"We need to move – _now_." The Prince spoke with urgency, grasping onto Dean's upper left arm. Gabriel released his right, stepping back and giving them space. "Remember what we discussed, Gabriel."

Gabriel nodded obediently, saluting the two men standing before him. "Good luck Dean. Your Majesty."

"Castiel will do." The Prince replied, hauling an extremely bewildered Dean to the exit of the chamber – one that Dean hadn't noticed before now, but he could see from beyond the slightly ajar door that there were stairs leading further down into the castle basements, another dimly lit stone passage. He followed his saviour in silence as the hand tightened on his shoulder, strong enough to leave a mark.


	4. Born to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean knew he couldn't go home again.

The forest was dark, and all that could be heard was the hastening crunches of their footsteps above the fallen leaves throughout the forest, never daring to say a word to one another in the process. A companionable silence between two strangers. But, hey, who could call someone who just broke him out of prison a stranger?

Why did he do it? What was in it for him? Why did his stomach flutter both times he had encountered the man? All these questions were swimming around in his mind now, but he knew that they were the least of his worries – he didn't sense that the man was a threat. Actually, it felt quite the opposite.

Thing was, Dean knew he couldn't go home again, and this is what was crushing him completely.

Sam would be fine without him – Dean knew he would, but he wasn't so sure about himself. He had raised his little brother since the death of their parents – the death that Sammy was far too young to remember at the time. When Sam was old enough, though, he had started to return the favour. By the end of it, the boys had sort of raised one another. He knew their relationship was unhealthy – he had been told by several of the townsfolk, but he couldn't find it in him to care. All they had was each other, and that was enough.

But now? The man before him was pressing on, somehow keeping considerably close to Dean's side so that they were almost pressing together. The urge to press himself against the man was overwhelming, and _what the fuck was that all about?_ Men didn't press against other men. Men didn't get get freakin' butterflies in their stomach over other men.

Did they?

Because Dean had noticed the looks the prince had been giving him during their travels so far. The looks that suggested Dean wasn't alone in this at all. Maybe it was his imagination. He was happy to put it down to the fact that Prince Castiel had just rescued him and he was exceedingly grateful. No point in reading too much into it and freaking himself out, right?

The fatigue was growing increasingly strong now, and Dean had no idea how long they had been striding in comfortable silence through the forest together. He halted, his legs giving a grateful twitch and his stomach feeling a little less tight.

"Uh, your... your highness?" Dean addressed him hesitantly.

"Castiel – I don't think myself above you, Dean. I am no longer a prince. I no longer belong to the kingdom." the man replied, his gravelly voice sounding even rougher – they had been travelling the forest all day, after all – wasn't he tired too? Castiel bowed his head, his face consumed by the darkness and the shadows of the forest.

Dean felt a sense of loss at the sight before Castiel raised his head again, the moon lighting up his features – those bright blue eyes that seemed to glisten in the moonlight, that crease in his forehead that seemed to suggest he was immersed in some deep thought, and those lips – dry and creased, but captivating. How could one man be so... there was no other word for it really, _beautiful_.

He wasn't dwelling on it. It really didn't mean anything. Nothing that Dean was quite willing to admit to himself, anyway. He was just tired and hazy, nothing more.

The night air was chilly now, and Dean could see his breath drag out of his mouth with mist. The trees were thick and concealing – surely there wasn't much chance of anyone catching up to them any time soon? Yet he still felt on edge.

Castiel's eyes were heavy-lidded now, and his features seemed to mirror how Dean felt. They were no use to each other if they were tired. They had to be able to defend themselves.

"When was the last time you slept, man?" Dean asked, stepping forward to examine his new companion closer. Their eyes, not for the first time since they had met, locked upon one another easily. Thing was, if this had been anyone else, he would have taken a step back. Castiel was captivating, though. Dean's eyes darted to his lips, then back to his eyes before speaking. "We, uh... we don't even know where we're going, do we? Maybe we should get some shut eye before we try to work it out."

The other man nodded, shuffling closer to Dean. Their chests were touching now. Their bodies were like magnets to one another – had been as soon as they had collided in the castle. Dean couldn't even fathom what that meant. He swallowed heavily, then forced a friendly smile onto his face. Castiel was staring at him still, his eyebrows drawn in.

A _crack_ through the trees had them startled, both men turning to attempt to defend themselves. Dean drew in a breath as a tall, broad shouldered figure emerged from the trees. Castiel made to move forward, the hilt of his sword at his waist curled around his fingers – ready to strike, but Dean held his left arm out to stop him, his right hand held above his head as a signal to wait.

"S...Sammy?" Dean hesitated. He was a little on edge, and his brain wasn't exactly running on full power, but there was no mistaking the figure – the one constant thing that Dean had in his entire life. The only person who had stayed from the very beginning.

Sam let out a snarl mixed with relief and frustration, before locking a fist on Dean's jaw with a crack. As it connected, Dean barely noted his shock before he went tumbling to the floor, being dragged into darkness.

_He was running now, Castiel at his side. It could never be any other way – he knew this now._

_The trees around them were shaking violently, and thunder was crackling in the distance, getting ever closer. They couldn't outrun it – they had been trying for a long time. Maybe even years, though Dean had lost track of time completely by now._

_A wayward branch tugged at his feet, as Dean went toppling to the ground. He instinctively held his hands out as a shield for the impact, but the thud never came._

_He was falling now. It was dark at first – pitch black, actually. It wasn't like Dean was scared of the dark or anything, but he could feel the wrongness of the force that was pulling him down. He fought with all his might, twisting and writhing in mid-air as though it would pull him back above, but it was no use. The hammering of his heart was getting faster and faster, the panic growing at full intensity._

_The darkness was disturbed now, as he felt himself growing ever warmer. It wasn't the cozy kind of warm, either. No, it was consuming, it was drawing him in and he was burning._

_Fire rose to meet him, as Dean wriggled and squirmed violently against the force, but it wasn't working. The fires were swallowing him now, and his silent scream rung through his head – but he couldn't fight it._

_Suddenly, he felt the numbness sink in. He felt cold – withdrawn. Suddenly he was controlling the flames, revelling in the way hundreds and thousands of souls were burning up._

_This is wrong. This is all wrong._

_But he didn't stop._

_The time passed by slowly – days becoming months, months becoming years, and there was no way out. He knew he had given up on that prospect. This was who he was now._

_Then he saw it – a light, brighter than he had ever seen, and it was coming towards him. It was beckoning him, and Dean didn't hesitate. He just obeyed. The light had no voice, yet it was calling out to him, and he knew it was safe. He knew he could find salvation there._

_His arm felt the force of a tight grip, and he was soaring – the flames growing colder now, and his heart feeling lighter than ever. This was right._

"Dean. Dean!" The warmth never left his arm, but he was being shaken now. His heart lept as he jolted upwards to face his saviour – a panic-stricken ex-prince.

"Whoa Cas – stop, stop!" Dean grumbled, swatting at the man.

 _Cas._ Where had that come from? It seemed right, though, and if Castiel had noticed the nickname, he said nothing. He was studying Dean's jaw now, running a finger softly over where the fist had connected with it earlier. Dean winced, drawing in a breath, then-

"Sam! What the hell, man?" He turned to face his brother now, scowling.

"Dean, I- I'm sorry. I didn't mean- are you okay?" Sammy replied, his eyebrows raised on his guit-ridden face.

Dean huffed, stepping from Cas and towards his brother. A small pang of regret was willing him to move back to the other man, the loss of warmth settling in. It was only then that he noticed he was still shaking.

"I- I was pissed, Dean. Okay? You just _left_ me." He was sporting his expression that Dean liked to fondly call his bitchface. The look of anger, disappointment and hurt all in one, and to top it all off, his eyes were wide and focused on Dean. They reminded Dean of a lost, confused puppy, looking up at him for answers.

"I didn't have a choice, Sam! I was going to be killed. Cas and I have been running all night! How the fuck did you find us, anyway?" Dean growled. He was pissed – of course he was pissed. Not only had he become an outlaw, he had already caused Castiel to become one, too – and now _Sam_. The one person he had spent his life trying to protect – and now they would be hunted.

Sam drew back now, his eyes on the forest floor. "I followed you. Gabriel came to me right away. What, did you think he was just going to leave me in the dark?" Sam's eyes met Dean again with a scolding glare. "You _know_ I can't do this without you, Dean. I stayed a good distance away until you had stopped. I couldn't shout on you – not with the guards patrolling the forest looking for you both."

"They'll be looking for you now, too. You know that, right? You know how much trouble you're in now?" Dean snapped, anger flaring in his chest now.

"It's fine, Dean."

"No – it's not fine, Sammy. You are in _danger_ now because of me."

He was enunciating his words now – a habit that seemed to manifest when he felt passionately against something. The two brothers stared one another down stubbornly, now.

Surprisingly, it was Castiel that broke the silence this time.

"Dean's right, Sam," Cas was addressing his brother now, turned to face Sam. "My mother will stop at nothing to find us – she's probably already noticed that you were missing. You're a suspect. Now we'll all be hunted. We will _all_ be killed."

"I- you- uh, Prince Castiel, right?" Sam winced. The boy had never been one to stand up to authority.

"Castiel." The man corrected, straightening himself and holding out his hand for Sam to take. Sam paused, before raising his hand to meet his in a tight handshake.

Dean rolled his eyes, moving between the two before he spoke.

"Look, it's been a long night. I need my four hours." He shot a glare at his brother, who was glaring back. "This isn't over." He promised, before settling himself on the ground against a tree, the two other men following suit quickly – all grateful for the silence. They needed to regroup. They needed to think clearly and get to safety. There was no other option, now. Not with Sam in danger, too.


	5. Walk This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The circle of fire around him burned brightly, stinging his eyes. He couldn't stay here. He was needed. Someone needed him. Badly.

_The first thing Castiel noticed was the buzzing in his ears. It was growing ever louder by the minute and his ears were beginning to ache. The circle of fire around him burned brightly, stinging his eyes. He couldn't stay here. He was needed. Someone needed him. Badly._

_There was a high-pitched buzzing noise, too. He knew it meant something. What that something was, though, he had no idea. It was, however, quite painful._

_Castiel felt the overwhelming urge to dive through the fire – to stomp his foot on it, anything to get out of the trap – but instinct was telling him he shouldn't. Instinct was telling him that any attempt of stepping over the fire would kill him. This was no normal fire. This was set up just for him, to contain him. He had no idea how he knew – he just did._

_Then Dean was there, bleeding out in front of him, and he couldn't get to him._

“ _Cas-” the man spluttered as blood manifested from his mouth. He was sprawled on his front, attempting to crawl forward towards Castiel._

_Grasping onto his head with his hands as a fruitless attempt to control the pain in his head, Castiel closed his eyes tight. It was unbearable, and the light from the fire was making it worse. He opened his eyes again, focusing on Dean._

“ _Cas, help me!”_

“ _Dean!” Castiel roared helplessly, reaching out for the man._

_The two men were alone in a dark and empty room. In fact, he couldn't see anything – all he could see was darkness, fire and Dean, who was reaching out for Castiel. The blood was pouring from him rapidly. This was no ordinary wound – if it was, Dean would have bled out by now. He did, however, look as though he was in agony. His eyes were wide with fear and his mouth was open in a silent scream._

“ _Come on, Cas! Help!” He was breathing hastily now. Castiel watched the rise and fall of his chest before the man collapsed in front of him, blood spilling heavier now to form a bitter pool under himself. He was looking up at Castiel, his eyes expressing a hint of hurt and disappointment._

“ _Dean, I can't reach you!” Castiel cried out desperately from within the circle, panicking. His own heart was thumping with a sickening haste, and his chest was rising and falling to match the pace of his heartbeat. He was starting to heat up – the flames were growing._

“ _Cas, Cas!” Dean continued to shout._

_Castiel shook his head, his heart clenching, a lump forming in his throat. He made to speak to Dean again, to tell him that he can't get to him once more. To tell him that... well, he didn't quite know what else there was to say, but he knew there was something. Something important. But it wasn't time yet, and Castiel was clueless. His heart froze momentarily - speaking proved to be impossible now._

_A flash caught his eye from behind Dean, who didn't appear to notice – then he saw it coming towards him – the water, ready to swallow him whole._

_No, no, no, no!_

_Castiel needed to warn Dean – to get him to safety – but he couldn't speak, and he couldn't cross the flames encircled around him. All the while, Dean was screaming, twisting and writhing in a bloody mess, still calling out for him._

_The buzzing was really intense now, but now wasn't the time to worry about the pain in his ears. Dean was in trouble. Dean needed him. That was the only thing that mattered._

“ _Cas! Castiel! Help me, Cas!”_

_The water was closer now._

-

“CAS!”

Castiel could feel the splash of the freezing cold chill of water on his face, causing Castiel to awake with a start. The darkness was gone, and in it's place, a bitter glare of sunshine. A pair of green eyes met his wide blues. His heart was racing still, but Dean was safely perched in front of him on one knee , hands gripping onto Castiel's upper arms. His long-haired lanky brother perched beside him, jug held aloft.

“You okay, man?” Sam asked with an expression of concern etched upon his face.

“I-I.. I d-don't-”Castiel stuttered shakily, his entire body trembling with shock – or fear. Maybe both, he concluded.

“Relax Cas,” Dean's hand was still rested on his arm absently, and he was staring at Castiel intensively. Cas met Dean's stare right back. “It was a dream, man. That's all.”

Yes. Dean was right. It was just a dream. But something was still out of place - he was far too sleep-disorientated to tell what it was exactly.

“It sounded pretty nasty, though,” Sam added, moving away from the two now, taking his place against a single tree, and sinking down until he was in a sitting position, keeping his concerned eyes trained on Castiel.

“I'm f-fine, Sam,” Castiel lied, not meeting the boy's gaze, but instead still locked into an intense staring battle with his elder brother. Dean seemed to notice this, and quickly rose to his feet, moving his eyes to the floor and clearing his throat awkwardly.

“We, uh... we should probably get going,” Dean said to the log on the ground in front of him.

Castiel nodded, standing to meet him with much less grace. He still felt uneasy, and he could feel an unpleasant sensation in his head.

“Going where, Dean?” Sam snapped irritatedly, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you even have a plan?”

Castiel felt his head thudding, and he wasn't sure if it was his imagination, but he felt as though the buzzing had returned, however faintly.

“Well,” Dean stepped forward, looking back up at the two men now, raising his voice in annoyance to meet Sam's level of irritation. “We haven't talked about it yet, Sammy. We haven't had the chance to stop and plan. In case you haven't noticed, we've been running for our fucking lives!”

Thud, thud, thud.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Right, so we're just going to hide in the forest until the Queen's guardsmen inevitably find us? Great plan, Dean!” Sam quipped with mock enthusiasm. “You know what, why don't we-”

“STOP!” Castiel yelled, cutting Sam off. He was clenching his head and sinking back onto his knees in agony. The buzzing was getting louder, his ears getting as sore as his head.

The two men turned to face Castiel, startled.

“Cas... you okay, man?” Dean asked, eyeing him anxiously.

“I- Dean, I don't- Can't you hear that?!” He almost screamed, raising his voice above the din.

The two brothers seemed to be sharing a private conversation through their expressions now – Sam looking concerned, and Dean looking downright terrified.

“What are you talking about, Cas?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow and sinking to meet him on the ground, laying a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder.

Castiel pressed his hands tighter against his ears, shaking his head rapidly.

“It won't stop! It won't- make it stop, Dean!” He cried, his voice cracking with anguish, pleading to Dean with his eyes, who seemed to be frozen to the spot, staring helplessly at Castiel, unsure of what to do.

Dean looked up at his brother for help, but Sam looked just as lost as Dean did.

“Cas, what can you hear?” Sam asked reproachfully, frowning, his forehead creased.

Just like that, the buzzing halted. Castiel fell to the ground completely, clouding over with blackness.

-

“-about Cas?”

“I dunno, man, he seemed pretty freaked.”

A blurry vision of two men appeared before him again, and Castiel felt he now had a better grip on deja-vu beyond what Gabriel had described to him. He stayed silent, allowing his consciousness to return to him.

The two brothers were sitting before him, perched in front of a campfire, huddled together on the fallen tree bark and engaged in what seemed to be a very private conversation. The sky had darkened considerably.

Rather than interrupting them, Castiel contented himself with listening to the low rumble of Dean's voice, which was sending tingles in a southern direction. He couldn't quite place what was causing them, but it did remind him of something Gabriel had once said about a woman he courted. Of course, the man had courted her for all of two days before he had gotten bored of her, so what did he know?

The two men continued their conversation by the fire, unaware of their new listener.

“I mean, he was a _prince_ , Dean. You don't think he's gonna realise that he had it better in the castle and run back? And what if-”

“No. Don't even say it, Sammy.” Dean rumbled with a warning tone to his voice.

“But-”

“I wouldn't turn you in, if that was what you were going to ask, Sam.”

Both heads shot up, startled. Dean smiled at him warmly, and Sam at least had the nerve to look apologetic. “Uh, hey Cas.”

“Sleep well?” Dean asked, still beaming as Castiel took a seat beside him and laced his hands together, hunching on the log.

“It was pleasant, thank you,” Castiel nodded to Dean, returning his smile. There was about an inch between their bodies, and Cas could feel the heat radiating from Dean. If Dean felt discomfort with the broken boundaries of personal space, he didn't let on. Castiel noted this – perhaps he would test the limit and see how much Dean was willing to tolerate. He didn't seem like the cuddly type.

He focused his attention on Sam, instead, his look softening as not to convey anger at Sam's earlier words.

“And don't worry Sam, I understand your doubt. You don't know me. Neither of you know me. I hope, though, that that will change, since it seems we will be travelling together at least until we get to safety.”

“Yeah, we were just talking about that, actually!” Dean grinned, clapping Castiel on the back. “We need to get as far away from the castle and Equiden as possible, right? Well, we were thinking-”

“Well, _Dean_ was thinking.” Sam quipped, shooting his brother a glare.

“Right. Well, uh, I was thinking that we could maybe head for Borthola? I figure it'll take us a good few weeks on horseback, but it's doable.”

“And how do we plan on acquiring horses?” Castiel asked, perplexed.

“Well, uh...” Dean rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, shooting a glance at Sam, who rolled his eyes and folded his arms, pursing his lips tightly in an expression that clearly depicted his unwillingness to humour his brother. “We haven't worked out the kinks yet?” He continued, a slight hint of mirthfulness to his tone.

Sam cleared his throat, before adding, “We're pretty much stuck for ideas, is what my moron of a brother is trying to get at.”

“Got anything better, sasquatch?” Dean shot back, glaring at Sam.

Sam sighed, rising to his feet and purposely turning away from Dean, addressing Castiel only. “I'm going to get more wood for the fire. Good luck with him.” He motioned his head pointedly at Dean before emerging into the woods without a backwards glance, a scowl drawn out on his face. Castiel caught a glimpse of him pulling a small axe from his belt that he hadn't noticed previously before Sam disappeared into the thickness of the forest.

Without the arguing of the two brothers, the sounds of the forest were more prominent now. Birds chirped through the nearby trees, signalling other life outside of Castiel's peripheral vision, and the swooshing of a nearby river, seemingly to the north, became clearer. Castiel's gaze fell on the full moon emerging from beyond the multi-shades of green leaves. He had never seen it from this perspective before – only from inside the castle walls. Now he was free. Now he could look up at the moon freely, rather than steal occasional glances of it from the windows of the castle. Now he could watch without worrying that he would be reprimanded for allowing himself to have such trivial thoughts. Most of all, though, now he had Dean to share the moment with.

“Sorry about Sam, man.” Dean interrupted, breaking away from his own thoughts. “Kid's had it rough, ya know?”

Castiel nodded, turning his attention to the man. Dean was sitting on the log with his hands clasped, rested on his knees, eyes still focused intensely on the fire. “Is the fighting a regular occurrence?”

Dean laughed heartily, grinning at Cas afterwards. “Yeah, man. You should see us during the holidays. Ellen and Jo are just as bad, though. I think we pretty much learned it from them. Or they learned it from us. Either way.”

Castiel gazed up at the sky, admiring the patterns and the constellations of the stars above them.

“You know, I would like to have someone to argue with like that.” Cas decided, wistfully. “A brother. I never had much time for relations in the castle, apart from spending a little bit of time with Gabriel.” He sighed. “He was my only friend. I hope that he didn't get into trouble because of us.”

“Nah, man. Gabriel's a tough nut to crack. They don't call him The Trickster for nothin'” Dean replied, somewhat unsure of what he was saying. It was as though he was trying to convince Castiel as much as himself. “Besides, he can really hold himself in a fight. I learned that from experience.”

Castiel tilted his head with the manner of an owl, perplexed. “You fought?”

Dean snorted.

“Yeah. All the friggin' time. Dude has no sense of when to keep his trap shut. This one time-”

A rustle from the trees, and Dean cut his story short, holding his hand up as a signal for silence. He raised himself from the ground.

“Sammy?” Dean asked, apprehensively.

“Not Sammy.” Came a voice from the trees. He knew that voice. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Balthazar?” Castiel enquired, raising from his seated position.

“Hello, Prince Castiel.” The tall blond man with the British accent replied.

Balthazar was one of the guards of the castle. Castiel hadn't spoken to him much, but last he had of him was that he had passed away in battle.

“You're-”

“Alive, yes. It would seem so.” Balthazar was grinning fondly at him. “And what are you doing gallivanting in the deep of the forest with- Dean Winchester, yes?”

“How the hell do you know my name?” Dean growled, balling his hand into a fist.

Castiel held out an arm in front of Dean, stopping him from advancing. Balthazar was cladded in thick silver armour and had one hand on a longsword rested on his side. Castiel and Dean had no way to defend themselves.

“Oh, you and I have a lot in common, Dean.” Balthazar chuckled. “We've even shared... for lack of a better expression, companions. I've heard a lot about you.”

“How are you alive, Balthazar?” Castiel cut in with urgency. He had no time for trivial questions – especially when it came down to discussing Dean's love life. The subject made him feel... uneasy.

“Faking your own death is rather easy when you have means of blackmail on the guard captain.” Balthazar replied airily. “Care to answer my question now?”

He took a moment to think. On the one hand, he barely knew Balthazar. He had been friendly to him while they were both in the castle, but he had no way of telling if he was trustworthy. The fact that he had already deceived the entire kingdom really wasn't in his favour. On the other hand, who could Balthazar run to exactly? And he had managed to wander the forest undetected for quite a while – just over a year, by Castiel's count. He could be useful.

“Before I answer, I need you to answer one more question.” Castiel said, decisively.

The blond man raised an eyebrow and folded his arms. “I'm listening.”

“How did you know I wouldn't bring you back to the castle?”

Balthazar chuckled again, grinning at the pair. “Oh, you're a clever one. I have my sources. You're no longer part of the kingdom, are you?”

“What sources?” Castiel asked. This was sounding far too suspicious. His instinct told him to listen to the man, though.

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “Very well. Come with me.” He motioned to the trees.

Castiel and Dean glanced at each other warily.

“Hey guys, I- uh..” Sam emerged from the trees, his arms full of small chunks of wood. His face fell, looking at the three men before him. “Hi?” 


End file.
